


The Road Ahead

by StilesBastille24



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Getting Back Together, M/M, Road Trip, post 5.12, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3729481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StilesBastille24/pseuds/StilesBastille24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Where are we going, Mick?” Ian asks.<br/>“Towards that big ball of twine. You ruined the surprise, you happy now?” And Ian doesn’t know if Mickey’s kidding or not. But he doesn’t care either. Wherever he’s going with Mickey is better than anywhere he would be without him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road Ahead

“Where we going?” Ian asks, tilting his head against the open window, the hot air pushing against his hair. He’d gotten it cut before they left, something more manageable, something that suggested he gave even the slightest shit what he looked like. Mickey had been inordinately pleased by the hair cut, like it was some sort of life affirming shit. 

“Does it matter?” Mickey asks, glancing over at his passenger.

Ian’s smile is small and just this side of vicious. “Nope,” he pops the ‘p.’

Mickey smirks back. “Didn’t think so, asshole, so sit quiet and look pretty.”

They’ve been driving for a day and a half. Last night they slept at some shitty ass motel where the ‘c’ in vacancy had been burned out and the woman working check in was casually drinking a beer while watching a rerun of Rosanne. The room had reeked of smoke, the sheets had cigarettes burns, and the bathroom hadn’t even bothered with complimentary soaps. They’d fucked on the bed, sheets kicked to the stained carpet, Ian’s teeth digging into Mickey’s neck, Mickey’s legs so tight around Ian’s waist they should’ve left bruises. 

In the morning, Mickey bought them shitty coffee from the vending machine and they’d driven through a Krispy Kreme for donuts. “Breakfast of champions,” Mickey had said, grin bright before he sunk his teeth into a pink sprinkled donut. 

Ian had thrown his pills back with the coffee and followed it up with two donuts to keep the nausea at bay. Mickey had shoved some vitamins at him, spouting off something about keeping his B levels up. Ian had comprised taking the pills with giving Mickey road head. They’d both come away satisfied. 

As far as Ian can tell, they’re heading west. Well, southwest, to be more accurate. They’re somewhere in Iowa currently, or maybe they’ve passed into Nebraska. Ian isn’t sure. The farm land stretches on endlessly and Ian can’t imagine how these people stay here. There’s nothing here, nothing but the flat land. 

He wants to ask Mickey to pull over, he thinks they’d be able to fuck between the corn stalks without anyone but God knowing. Except he’s not entirely sure Mickey would be game for that and Ian’s happier keeping Mickey happy than he is endangering the peace. 

Ian’s not exactly okay, or at least that’s what his family keeps telling him. It’s been months since the short lived rendezvous with Monica and summer is in full swing. The break-up with Mickey had lasted exactly three weeks. 

Then Ian was standing on Mickey’s porch staring at the door like it was fucking Mount Everest and there was no possible way he would ever get past it. Until four minutes later when Mickey had pulled it open, stared at him with his eyebrows etched high up his forehead, and said, “The fuck you want?”

And Ian had said the only true thing that had come to mind. “You.”

Mickey rubbed his thumb against the corner of his mouth, one hand on the door as if debating shutting it in Ian’s face or not. Ian figured he deserved that. He’d done a spectacular job of throwing Mickey’s trust in his face during the break-up and even better one when he’d given approximately zero fucks as Sammi chased Mickey down the street, shooting wildly. 

“You want to bang or some shit?” Mickey had finally asked. 

Ian shook his head. 

“Then I got no clue what you could want from me, seeing as you broke up with me and left me for dead.” Mickey eased his weight against the door, sliding it a few inches shut. 

“I love you,” Ian said, because he wanted Mickey to know that.

“The hell does that mean?” Mickey quoted snidely, letting the door ease forward again. 

“It means I’m sorry I fucked this up.” Ian rubbed a hand up the back of his neck, ducking his face so he didn’t have to look Mickey in the eyes. “I’m bipolar and I’ve got zero support system and I took that out on you. No one else wants this,” he gestured to himself. “My family can’t handle it, my mom wants to be there but I can’t handle her; so I did the only thing I could control, I ruined this, because I thought that’s what I deserved. And honestly, Mickey, you don’t deserve this, you deserve someone so much better.”

Mickey blinked at him, like Ian’s heart wrenching confession was of little more interest to him than actual paint drying. That made Ian feel like shit and again, he figured he deserved this. “Right, well,” Mickey eyed him up and down. 

Ian took a step back. There was nothing left to say and nothing left to salvage so there was nothing left for him to do but head home. 

“This you saying you want to get back together?” Mickey asked, forcing Ian to pause his retreat.

He looked up at Mickey, squinting in the afternoon sunlight. “Is that even an option?” Because he hadn’t even hoped for that much, Ian had been keeping his fingers crossed for just being on speaking terms. 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Gallagher,” Mickey said decidedly. And he wasn’t fond or teasing, he was simply pointing out something he felt was fact.

Ian felt his heart sink further than he thought possible. He’d already been pretty set on feeling numb on bad days, depressed on the good ones, he didn’t think he had anything lower left to feel. He nodded so Mickey would know he had heard him, then made to turn around.

Except Mickey’s hand caught around his bicep and pulled him back around. “Ain’t nobody in this shithole I deserve more than you,” Mickey said, eyes burning angrily. “There is literally nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Ian. So either you’re in this with me until the end or you can just fuck off.”

Ian’s heart tripped over itself, something that he thought should make him feel happy or hopeful or fucking elated. Instead, he just stared at Mickey. He wanted to make promises, vows of how he would be deserving of Mickey’s love this time around. Of how he’d be everything Mickey wanted. 

He couldn’t though, because that was a lie. So he said, “I love you, Mickey. And I’m going to fuck this up. But I will never want anyone the way I want you. I will never love anyone the way I love you. And I will never hurt anyone the way I will hurt you.”

Mickey’s hand shifted from Ian’s arm to the back of his neck, reeling him in with deliberate force. “I would burn all of this to the ground to be with you, Ian. Ain’t nothing you could ever do to make me stop loving you.” 

And when their mouths met, it had been a continuation of their words. Brutal, unforgiving, and desperate. Mickey dragged Ian to him, blunt finger nails digging into the soft skin of his neck, Ian’s hand shoving roughly up the back of Mickey’s shirt to scratch at his skin. And when Ian started to cry, Mickey drew him inside, not allowing the kiss to break. Navigated them to his bed where he pulled off Ian’s shirt and tossed it to the side. 

They’d fucked with tears rolling down Ian’s cheeks, with Mickey panting harshly against his ear, with their pants still twisted around their ankles. It was everything that Ian wanted, it bruised his skin and tore him apart. It forced the emptiness out of the place he’d been sure his heart was, and replaced it with everything that was Mickey. Every tough glance, vicious word, hard punch, and every part he saved just for Ian, the tenderness, the love, the worry. 

Ian hadn’t looked back since then. Hadn’t gone back to his childhood home since he and Mickey lugged all his stuff to Mickey’s. Hadn’t missed a day of his medication. And when Mickey asked him if he wanted to go for a drive on a Saturday morning, Ian had said yes. Mickey packed a bag for them, threw it in the backseat of his rust bucket of a car, and Ian hadn’t looked back once as they’d rolled out of their neighborhood onto the highway. 

“Where you at, Gallagher?” Mickey asks, eyes sliding from the road to Ian who shrugs. 

“I want to fuck you in these stupid corn fields,” he admits, because his family might think he’s broken, but Mickey loves even the jagged pieces of Ian. 

The corner of Mickey’s mouth twitches up. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Ian nods, his own mouth curving into a smile. He was stupid for thinking Mickey would judge his request. Even if he thought it was fucking weird as hell, if Ian asked, Mickey would find a way to make it happen. That just who Mickey is for Ian. 

“You got a thing for corn stalks or?” He waggles his eyebrows preposterously, smugness widening into a smile. 

“Opposite, really,” Ian says. “I fucking hate all this corn. There’s nothing out here but corn and fields. Figured we’d defile it, give it a piece of our minds.”

Mickey laughs and it’s one of the best things Ian’s ever heard. He looks over at his boyfriend, concretely in love with everything about Mickey, especially how he looks in the afternoon sunlight, with the road stretching out in front of them endlessly. 

“I could stand for that revolution,” Mickey says. He takes one hand off the wheel to flip the corn fields off. “Fuck the farmer!” he shouts through the open window. 

Ian laughs, startled into it. “I think I hate the corn for existing more than I do the farmers for planting it.”

“Getting all philosophical on me now? Tell me, Ian,” Mickey leans toward him conspiratorially, “which came first? The corn or the farmer?”

Ian laughs again, head lolling back against the head rest. “Where are we going, Mick?” he asks when his laughter subsides. 

“Towards that big ass ball of twine. You ruined the surprise, you happy now?” And Ian doesn’t know if Mickey’s kidding or not. But he doesn’t care either. Wherever he’s going with Mickey is better than anywhere he would be without him. 

“Not until we fuck in the corn, I won’t be,” Ian answers. 

When Mickey starts slowing down the car, something electric surges its way through Ian until he feels like he could spark if he touched metal. He stares at Mickey, eyes locked on every minute movement he makes. Mickey doesn’t look back until the car is parked on the shoulder.

“We gotta do it in the corn or could we do it in the car with the windows down so the corn can hear us?” Mickey asks, one eyebrow up, challenging. 

Ian launches himself across the front console, one hand scrabbling to release his seat belt, while the other knots itself in Mickey’s hair. He smashes his lips against Mickey’s, biting at his lower lip, then sucking away the sting. Mickey pushes back, shoving at Ian until he’s in the back seat with Mickey spread over him. 

Mickey pulls back to yank his t-shirt over his head and with that scant distance between them, Ian clutches desperately at Mickey’s hips, keeping him pinned in place. “I love you, Mickey Milkovich. Every awful thing about you and all the good parts in between.

Mickey’s smile is all teeth. “Fucking love you too, Ian.” Then he drops down, covering Ian’s body with his, erasing every spec of air separating them. 

And while they come together in frantic pushes and ecstatic pulls, Ian grins wild and uncontained. This is everything to him. This moment, this man, this place they’ve created just for the two of them. Nothing can come between them because there isn’t a single thing either of them wouldn’t do to get back to the other.

That’s love, Ian thinks, as he sucks a hickey into Mickey’s skin. Not just someone who will accept you no matter what, but someone who will want you no matter what, someone who will conquer mountains and destroy everything to stay with you, to get back to you. Ian loves Mickey, Mickey loves Ian, and nothing could ever fucking change that.

**Author's Note:**

> Mickey takes Ian to the Grand Canyon. They stand at the edge and stare down. Mickey links their fingers together like he doesn’t give a fuck that anyone can see them. He tugs Ian close to him, pressing a kiss to his temple. Ian turns his face so their lips meet instead. They kiss as the sun creeps over the horizon.


End file.
